YVES SAINT LAURENT: THE GENIUS OF ELEGANCE AND SENSUALITY

“Mon petit travail en tant que couturier est de faire des vêtements qui reflètent notre époque, je suis convaincu que les femmes veulent porter des pantalons.”

Yves Saint Laurent

Yves Saint Laurent was more than a fashion designer: he was a creator of identity, an architect of desire, a textile poet who reinvented the female silhouette while exposing his own fragility to the world. From his first solo collection in 1962 until his retirement in 2002, his genius oscillated between bold creativity and extreme sensitivity. His story is also the story of a century of cultural, sexual, and aesthetic transformations—a fashion that ceased to be an inaccessible luxury to become a mirror of society.

In 2001, seven years before his death, Yves Saint Laurent agreed to be filmed by documentarian David Teboul in a film that offers an intimate look into his universe. In an early scene, as he gazes at old family photographs, he comments with melancholic irony: “J’ai joué le ‘grand couturier’...” The phrase, laden with irony and sadness, reveals the awareness of a man who, since adolescence, assumed a role that eventually consumed him.

Raised in French Algeria, Yves was a lonely and sensitive child who found refuge in his mother’s fashion magazines. He drew compulsively and dreamed of Paris. At 18, he won the International Wool Secretariat competition and was hired by Christian Dior, who adopted him as his heir. With Dior’s untimely death in 1957, Saint Laurent was thrust into the spotlight. His first collection, hailed as a masterpiece, immediately consecrated him, although his withdrawn and fragile nature clashed with the brutal pressure of fame.

The meteoric rise of Yves Saint Laurent was violently interrupted: drafted into military service and replaced at Dior, Yves fell into a crisis that led to his internment in a psychiatric hospital. It was then that Pierre Bergé appeared, who would become his romantic partner and business partner in creating the YSL maison. Bergé rescued him from the hospital, shielded him from the outside world, and pushed him to found his own fashion house. From that moment on, YSL became synonymous with aesthetic revolution, introducing garments that challenged conventional women’s fashion, becoming symbols of liberation and the subversion of traditional roles.

One of his most iconic contributions was the women’s tuxedo, a garment that had until then been exclusively masculine. In 1966, Saint Laurent reinvented this male piece to fit the female silhouette, giving it an air of power and sophistication that defied social norms. This piece not only broke fashion barriers but also reflected a shift in the perception of women in society—a step toward equality and freedom of expression.

At the same time, he launched one of his most innovative proposals: the Rive Gauche line. With this collection, he radically changed the fashion landscape by offering luxury prêt-à-porter—more accessible collections that maintained the same conceptual and artistic weight as his haute couture. This line marked a before and after in democratizing fashion without losing its poetic essence. Yves understood that prêt-à-porter should not be a simplified version of haute couture but an extension of it. He dressed women in trousers, liberating them from corsets without sacrificing sensuality. He also broke barriers through his play with codes of power, androgyny, and desire. Simultaneously, he pioneered collaborations with visual artists, establishing a conceptual and visual dialogue with figures such as Mondrian, Picasso, and Matisse—not only visually, but also conceptually.

That same year, 1966, he shocked Parisian society with the introduction of sheer dresses, giving rise to the so-called nude look—a radical move to reveal the female body without filters or embellishments. Yves Saint Laurent began using transparent textiles, boldly exposing the female body in a near-naked state, which caused a scandal at the time. This audacious reinterpretation of sensuality remained a constant in his collections over the years, showing a female body free from unnecessary adornments—something that, over time, became a hallmark of the YSL maison.

Another milestone in his collections were the Op-Art dresses, which made Yves one of the foremost exponents of art-inspired fashion. The most famous dress in this category was the mini dress with straight cuts, decorated with primary-colored squares, inspired by the geometric paintings of Piet Mondrian. Moreover, Saint Laurent explored the optical illusions of Op-Art style, creating pieces that not only challenged visual perception but also engaged with the artistic movements of the time, giving his designs a conceptual dimension.

The safari jacket (or Saharienne) was another of his iconic proposals, adding an adventurous and practical air to women’s fashion. Part of his early prêt-à-porter collections, this trench-style piece with front pockets and a slightly loose cut became a symbol of utilitarian fashion, evoking expeditions to faraway lands. Inspired by safari jackets, it introduced a more casual yet elegant approach to modern women’s dressing.

Finally, the reinterpreted trench coat was another garment Saint Laurent transformed and feminized. The classic trench, originally designed as a men’s raincoat, became an essential piece in the female wardrobe. With softer cuts and adjustments to fit the female body, YSL’s trench evolved from a utilitarian item to a coveted object—reflecting the designer’s ability to merge functionality with sophistication.

These garments, along with a provocative attitude that shocked and seduced in equal measure, became emblems of Yves Saint Laurent’s aesthetic revolution. In each of them, Saint Laurent pushed the boundaries of fashion and female perception, proposing a vision that not only transformed wardrobes but also changed how women saw themselves and related to their bodies.

Parallel to his fashion achievements, Yves Saint Laurent also left an indelible mark on the world of fragrance. In 1971, he launched Rive Gauche, a perfume named after his prêt-à-porter boutique. The fragrance, with fresh floral notes, was hailed by many as one of the best of its kind. But it was its ad campaign that made history: Yves posed completely nude to promote the perfume, defying gender taboos and projecting an image of vulnerability and artistic daring.

In 1977, to complement his fall/winter collection inspired by China, Yves Saint Laurent launched Opium, an oriental fragrance with patchouli, myrrh, and vanilla notes. The name—an explicit reference to the drug the British introduced to China in the 19th century—sparked immediate scandal. Critics accused him of glorifying colonialism and drug use, yet the perfume became a classic, a symbol of provocation, luxury, and decadence—unmistakable hallmarks of Saint Laurent’s world.

As his fame grew, so did his demons. Nights at Studio 54, endless parties in Marrakech, excesses with drugs and alcohol wove a legend of decadence around the designer. But behind the myth was a broken man, unable to function without the strict structure Bergé provided. Their tensions, their co-dependent and symbiotic relationship, were as intense as they were productive. Yves was the artist, Pierre the businessman, and together they formed one of the most powerful alliances in fashion history.

Over the decades, YSL not only set trends—he shaped the image of the modern woman. Catherine Deneuve, Betty Catroux, Loulou de la Falaise, and Paloma Picasso were his muses, but also extensions of his artistic vision. For Saint Laurent, the female body was a canvas on which to project a hybrid vision of classicism and provocation.

“Chanel gave women freedom. Yves gave them power,”

it was once said—and it’s no exaggeration.

Over time, however, the weight of the persona became overwhelming. The constant pressure to produce two haute couture collections annually, along with commercial lines and licenses, led to physical and emotional exhaustion that eventually became unsustainable. The same man who had transformed fashion and created a new vision of women’s clothing began to feel overwhelmed by the demands of a world that both adored and destroyed him. Saint Laurent’s life, marked by genius and inner turmoil, was not only filled with success but also with personal and professional tensions that often transcended the runway.

In 1983, the Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated the first retrospective ever to a living designer—a milestone that solidified his legacy as an essential figure in fashion history. It was recognition for a man who had taken fashion to new heights, even as he struggled with his own demons. The retrospection of that moment highlighted the contrast between Saint Laurent’s public figure and the fragility of the man behind the creation. Despite his triumphs, the pressure to stay at the forefront was relentless.

In 1999, the YSL brand was acquired by the Gucci Group—a shift that brought about a change in direction that was not well received by all. The relationship between Yves Saint Laurent and his successor as creative director, Tom Ford, began amicably, full of mutual admiration. Ford initially had Saint Laurent’s approval, who praised his work at Gucci and was willing to share his vision for the brand. However, what began as a cordial relationship soon turned into a clash of egos—a battle for control over an invaluable legacy.

Tom Ford has revealed details of his tense relationship with Yves in several interviews. According to the American designer, Saint Laurent, though initially supportive, grew increasingly hostile as Ford found success at the helm of the brand. The YSL business quickly doubled, and the favorable press Ford received, along with the success of the new direction, stirred jealousy in Saint Laurent, who did not hesitate to express his discontent publicly. The feud escalated so much that, according to Ford, Yves sent him hate-filled letters accusing him of having “destroyed 40 years of my career in just 13 minutes.” Despite the tension, Ford kept his resentment private for years—even after Yves’s death in 2008. In an interview, Ford revealed he still keeps the letters and considers them a valuable testimony he might publish one day.

In 2002, Saint Laurent presented his final collection—a retrospective show at the Pompidou Museum in Paris that served as an artistic testament to his career. Though his retirement was official, the impact of his work remained alive in the collections presented under his name. Yves withdrew into a more private life, but his mark on fashion was undeniable.

Saint Laurent died in 2008 from brain cancer. He spent his final years in seclusion, surrounded by books, dogs, art objects, and the ghosts of an intense life. “He entered depression the way one enters a religion,” said Bergé, who organized a historic auction of his art collection after his death.

The battle for his legacy has been intense. From Tom Ford to Hedi Slimane, several designers have attempted to reinterpret his vision with mixed results. Slimane’s decision to remove “Yves” from the original logo in 2012 provoked outrage: “Ain’t Laurent without Yves” became a slogan of protest. The tension between honoring the legacy and the need for reinvention continues to shape the brand’s destiny.

YSL’s mark lives on—not only in fashion archives but in the collective memory of an era he helped define. As Warhol said, he was a genius who simply couldn’t take it. A man who gave the world beauty while seeking refuge behind thick glasses and a sidelong glance. Nearly two decades after his passing, Yves Saint Laurent remains a fascinating and contradictory symbol: vulnerable and powerful, invisible and omnipresent, eternal.